Page 36 of Ravaged Wolf
That was when I still had trouble leaving my room some days or holding it together all day. I’d beat myself up about it, and then, inevitably, the next day Abertha would say, “Let’s go hunting.”
Eventually, I learned the lesson. Failure isn’t the end of the world. You’re narrowing it down. Your chances will be better tomorrow. And they were. I hate going home now. I like it better at the infirmary where I’m useful.
I’ve learned so many things—how to sit quietly with someone who’s hurting and let my presence be a comfort. How to crack a joke when the fluids get embarrassing and how late-night radio and singing along together and sharing a snack eases pain. How to clean a wound and bathe a hot face with a cold washcloth and which teas are best for fevers, which are best for frights, and which are best for heartbreak.
With my small paycheck, I buy a crossbody bag for the tools of my new trade—tissues, tweezers, throat drops, and tiny curiosities like the animal figurines that apparently come in tea boxes, although never in a box I’ve bought.
I realize what’s happening—Abertha is teaching me toheal myself—but I also love what I’m doing. I’m good at it. After they’re discharged, when I pass patients on the long walks I take now, they’ll say hello, and there’s no pity in their eyes. I’m not a tragedy to them. I was a helper.
And then, on a random Thursday, after a year as her apprentice, Abertha tells me I’ve learned everything I’m capable of understanding—which doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement, but from Abertha, feels like high praise—and that I’ve graduated to healer, and my first official task is to cover for her and go to Quarry Pack to make a swap with their alpha female.
My parents are totally against it, but they don’t dare interfere with anything Abertha wants since Madog made it clear that he backed her when it comes to me.
I haven’t left pack territory since an Academy field trip to Old Den. I was nervous then, surrounded by packmates, and that was before my life skidded into a brick wall. I’m terrified now. I’m not ready. I’ve had no time to prepare.
That’s what repeats in my head as I follow Abertha to a bus behind the sportsplex. She’s arranged for me to hitch a ride with fighters going to train with Killian Kelly, the alpha of Quarry Pack. I pray I don’t run into him. I’ve never met him in person, but I’ve seen video. He tears huge males up in the ring like a pup biting the heads off gummy bears.
I sit in the seat right behind the bus driver, and as I expect, the males leave me alone and respectfully avert their eyes. Young, unmated males are especially careful around me. They’ve obviously been told to steer clear.
I wouldn’t want their attention, but still—it makes me feel lonely.
Ironically, I was less lonely when I spent all day by myself in my bedroom. Now, I’m surrounded by mates who love each other and pups and families, and every day, the fact that I’ll never have that is hammered home.
It’s not like I want a male, per se.
I want to sit on the steps, sipping a cold soda, and feeling one thousand percent alive.
I want to close my eyes, hit a button, and start over again on a countertop under a vent in apartment 1248.
I’m so distracted by the memory that I don’t have time to work myself up about meeting Una, the Quarry Pack alpha’s mate. Even if I had, I would’ve relaxed right away.
She greets me with her pup when I get off the bus. Raff, a male about two years old, races to and from her like the kid’s toy with the rubber ball and a paddle, rebounding off her legs like a bumper car.
He’s wearing a miniature version of the muscle shirt and athletic shorts that seems to be the pack males’ uniform. Una’s style is much more earthy. Her thick, braided hair dangles almost to her waist, and she wears a long, flowy skirt like Abertha’s and an almost ethereally calm expression.
“Welcome to Quarry Pack,” she says, smiling. “Got my drugs?”
I hold up the jar of dragon’s tongue that we’re trading for what Abertha told me are “assorted herbs, for fun and profit, and mushrooms both edible and magical.”
She shuffles forward to take the jar. I’ve heard that she limps, but it’s not as noticeable as people make it sound.
“Lucan will stow your things in the bus,” she says, gesturing to a snaggle-toothed male with an overflowing basket. He gives me a friendly jerk of his chin and bounds onto the bus. My stomach tenses, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m unsettled because he made direct eye contact. He doesn’t know to treat me like I’m damaged. It feels strange, but not bad.
“Well, now that business is done, we have the rest of the day to ourselves while the males smack each other around.”Una doesn’t seem to mind. She actually seems delighted by the prospect. “Would you like to see our bees first?”
“Absolutely.” The day is taking on a real magical quality. The weather is mild, the trees are a fresh, spring green past the worst of the pollening, and Quarry Pack itself is charming— a rustic camp with wide paved trails leading from its quaint woodsy cabins and low whitewashed buildings.
“Ready, pup?” Una asks.
“Mama, up,” Raff says, lifting his arms in the air.
As soon as Una picks him up, Raff starts to try and take the dragon’s tongue from Una.
“That’s not for pups,” she tells him firmly.
He actually growls and tries to peel her fingers off the jar.
“Raff! No!” She seems genuinely surprised that her pup’s not listening, but even though he can’t be more than twenty-five pounds, I can smell his dominance.
